


Sparks fly so speak now

by wavetothewaves



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Anal, Bakery, Blow Jobs, Cas POV, Cheating, Cupcake - Freeform, Daddy Issues, Dream Job, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marriage, Mental Illness, OCD, Rape, Smut, Song - Freeform, Sparks Fly, Taylor Swift - Freeform, Violence, Wedding, affair, bad dad, bestfriends, dean tops, gay relationship, no mother, parallel, speak now, travelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavetothewaves/pseuds/wavetothewaves
Summary: “They’ll play that at our wedding you know.”“Play what?” Dean hums as he places his head in the crook of my collar bone.“Speak Now.”Deans head shoots up and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me, Taylor Swift again?”I grin and nod. “It’s technically Our song.”Dean groans and throws his head back, “did you seriously just quote another one of her songs, Cas?” He laughs then proceeds to burry his head back into my shoulder.I mumble blissfully.-A grown man shoved me against a wall, snatched the words straight out of my mouth.Then I saw you, and I wanted you to shove me down and take those words right out of my mouth.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel (supernatural)/ dean Winchester, Castiel/ Balthazar, Dean/Cas, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 5
Collections: Destiel





	1. One

This is surely not what you expected or thought this would be.

Because I know deep down, you wished it was me.

I burst from behind the curtain, I know she doesn't want me here, I don't really care, can't she see?

I promised myself I wouldn't cause a scene, I had promised you that I would wait, that I would meet you when you're out of the Church, at the back door, but you had promised her and I two separate things and I couldn't keep my promise; I wanted you.

I hear the Preacher boom-- Speak now or forever hold your peace.

There's silence, I finally hold my last chance.

I needed you to hear me out, to understand.

I literally sprint up towards the aisle, I stand tall, my hands are shaking, everyone is looking at me, yet all I can look at is you, your green eyes staring back, your mouth agape as I struggle for words.

I imagine me standing in her place opposite you, our friends and family awaiting our vows to tie the knot on our special day, our wedding.

But its not ours, its yours and her, and I never thought I'd be the one to gate-crashing and be barging in on a white veil occasion. 

Everyone told me to speak now.

Even you. 

** 5 Years Earlier  **

"Cas, c'mon, join us, have a drink, it's Christmas!" my petit red headed friend perched herself beside me, down on the Bar's booth stuck up against the wall looking out at the dozen or so Pool tables.

I sigh. Not that anyone ever agrees with me, but I hate Christmas. 

"You're such a humbug you know!" Anna rests her head on my shoulder, her glossy, blood red hair falls down over her face. I roll my eyes. 

"You know why I don't like Christmas." I finally breath out. 

She lifts her head up, shifts her body closer but turns more face on to me, back towards the rest of our friends. A sympathetic look wipes across her face as she frowns, "yeah I know, but she wouldn't want you to be miserable because of it. It was her favourite time of the year after all."

I nod, looking down at the ground. I feel Anna's head turn away from me, knowing her she'll probably have a timid smile hovering on her lips.

"It was mine too." I whisper under my breath just as Anna stands up, grabbing my hand and dragging me through the maze of Pool tables to the front of the room, to the bar. 

My mom had died this time around 5 years ago, to be precise  28th December . I had just turned 14 a couple of months beforehand. 

We, meaning my dad and I, had spent that Christmas in the Hospital with her, she was allowed to come home the last two nights however. Now every Christmas reminds me of that, I was a kid, of course I could never forget it. 

Honestly my dad never did either, its almost as if he blames me, how? I don't know. But he was angry, upset; he had a strange relationship with my mom, meaning they were high school sweethearts, but he got married and had my two older half-brothers, Michael and Gabriel whilst my mom went travelling. He was heartbroken when she left, she was the love of his life after all, or so he would always say.

Once she returned their love affair began splitting my dad and his first wife up. Mom and dad then got married shortly after and a couple of years later, I came along. 

When mom passed dad sold everything and moved us over here, to East London, England. My brothers still live over in Los Angeles, America, with their mother, I talk to them occasionally. 

I've been here nearly 5 years, and although I do miss the States, I've made a home here, a family outside of family. This is where I met Anna. She lives down the same road as me, and pretty much imprinted on me the moment the plane landed down. Rumour had it she had a little crush on me but I don't think that was the case, she was just lonely of a meaningful friend.

We went to the same school and became close friends very quickly, same classes, same train journey, same hobbies and afterschool activities. Yet she was pretty and wanted to be popular.. I well, didn't. Somehow she always made that work and made me feel welcome, she never left me out and soon I began to feel comfortable around the larger groups in high school. The main group we're still friends with now. 

I used to spend more time at her house than my own. Maybe that's one of the reason why dad and I drifted away. We used to spend hours in her kitchen just baking, and we found a bit of love and talent for it. Cupcakes, brownies, rock cakes, you name it, we made it. We had only started baking for us, then for our families, then neighbours, friends, then the local bakery took us on. Bit of a weird weekend job but we loved it.

It was a small bakery, Cupid's Cupcakes, been there for about 25 years, run by what everyone thought was two sister were actually wives, about two blocks away. Anna and I started working there when we were nearly 16 years old, not long after I had moved over here. Just deliveries and cleaning and waiting the five tables in and three tables out to start off with. Which honestly yes, was slow to begin with but it was all worth it when our bosses started putting our goods on the shelves. 

Anna and I had decided to go to the same college together whilst taking more shifts at the bakery, they were getting old, they wanted to retire but couldn't give it up just yet to sell so they started training us up properly. Our college courses were helping build our childhood dream, the business and catering road. And after we graduated we obviously became more qualified and we were basically handed the bakery. They still own it but we had proved ourselves worthy enough to maintain and run the place as they buggered off to the country for retirement leaving us in charge. Not that we complained, it was quite literally our childhood dream come true, and not to brag or anything but we are fucking good at our jobs.

Anna jolts me out of my trance by jabbing me upwards, on my shoulder, "Castiel!" She chimes. "You with us? What do you want?" 

"Huh, oh, um, I'll just have what you're having." I splatter out, still not bothering whether I have an alcoholic beverage or not. 

"Two double vodkas and lemonades please." Anna orders, showing our ID's.

The bartender nods and proceeds to making our drink, Anna looks back over at our friends at the back of the low-lit small hall, I can't see them as I'm watching the Christmas supermarket advert on the TV above all the liquors on the bars shelf, yet I can still hear them chuckling to one another. 

It's honestly not that busy in here, considering it's actually Christmas eve I thought it would be packed. 

"Must be nice having the drinking age as 18 here so you can drink legally." The bartended smiles as he snaps me out of awkwardly staring at the TV, he slides our drinks over.

"Sorry?" I reply, Anna picks up her glass.

"Isn't the drinking age 21 back in America, you're only 19, you can't legally drink there, can you?" The bartender that I don't actually recognise states then says rhetorically, we come here fairly often.

I pick up my drink and take a sip, "I wouldn't know, I moved here when I was about 14." A little bluntly, my voice going deeper than I expected. 

He lets out a noise and nods in an understanding motion whilst cleaning a glass. I smile and thank him for my drink and go to walk back to my friends as Anna hands over the money.

"Thanks love, your boyfriend making you pay?" he sniggers and places the money in the till, Anna giggles a little at him.

"He's not my boyfriend." she turns towards me literally dragging me back to the bar, why do we have to do small talk with the bartender I do not know. "best friend and business partner, yes, but not boyfriend." she grins at me pinching my cheek causing me to roll my eyes and push her away. 

The bartender chuckles at us as I see him pick up a new glass to clean.

"He's cute!" Anna mouths to me causing me to roll my eyes once more. She turns back to look at him, sipping through her drinks straw, placing her elbows on the sticky bar and her head in her hands. "You're new here aren't you?"

"Yep, started about 3 days ago." he replied. "You guys regulars?" 

"Come here a fair bit. Your boss and his wife's son was in our year in high school. So we all used to hangout here together after school before the bar opened. We come here to meet our group when some are home from Uni or not working or just want a game, it's pretty chill really. Keeps us out of trouble." Anna says sweetly, shrugging at the end. 

I hear a faint mention of my name and turn to look over to my friends now gesturing for us to return. 

"Castiel. I haven't heard that name before." The bartender makes me spin back round, he runs his spare hand through his dark hair. "Is it one of those wacky American names?" wacky American names? Okay I’m an American dude and you’re British, I get it, no need to keep mentioning it. 

"Do you have a thing against Americans?" Shit, didn't actually mean to say that aloud, I've only had a sip of vodka, c'mon!

"Nah love, just curious about what kind of name Castiel is, just wondering if it was actually American."

"No it's Hebrew, I think." I shrug, my whole body turned towards him, I look down at Anna staring up between us amusingly sipping her drink. "My father likes names ending with 'el': Michael, Gabriel and Castiel." 

"Fair enough, I can't talk anyway because my name's Hannah." he pulls a face and lets out a dry laugh.

Anna coughs up a little bit of drink and apologies. I can't help but look... Well down there. No idea why that was my first reaction, I can obviously tell he's a dude, still my brain wanted clarification? Yet he must have noticed as he sniggers a little due to my reaction. 

"Yeah not very common for a dude I know, it's a nickname truth be told, made in Primary school and stuck ever since." 

"Really?" I stupidly ask.

"Nah." He smirks somehow politely, Anna giggles again. "It's my surname. Everyone does call me it though."

I smile in response to him then gesture to Anna to head back to the table, "Well, thanks Hannah!" I smirk back to him then step back allowing Anna to walk in front of me back through the winding of pool tables.

She looks back at me and grins, "he is pretty cute!" she winks at me.

"Don't." I stare straight ahead, not blinking, does she really have to do this now?

"What!" She spins to face me, now walking backwards. "I know you basically bat for the other team." her grin widens-- ear to ear.

"Anna, c'mon, not here, not now."

"Okay, okay, but you do need to actually admit it to yourself as well as properly to me. Your dad will start asking questions soon! And besides, mum and I actually have a wager on when you'll come out!"

"Wait, what?" I stop in my tracks, I can't help but laugh a little whilst rolling my eyes. "Now I'm never coming out!"

Anna pauses, still facing me, we're basically back with our friends and they could easily tune in and hear what we're talking about if they were playing attention. 

"You never denied it!" Anna gasps, a self-made dramatic look crossing her face as I brush passed her placing myself down back on the booth against the wall, drink in hand.

I'm not planning on getting home anytime soon, and like Anna had said to the bartender, we only get to hang out with the others when they're not working or back from Uni for the holidays, so honestly not that often actually.

Besides, I don't want to be around my dad at the best of times recently, let alone at Christmas.

Truth be told I really do think he partly blames me for my moms death, or for not being there at least. I was in-fact with a friend that I may have had a slight crush on back in LA. Nothing happened of course, I had to run back 7 blocks home and by that time my mom had unfortunately passed away and I wasn't there. I don't think dad ever forgave me for leaving the house that night also considering I snuck out.

This time of the year is just as hard as it was moms favourite holiday. She wasn't religious or anything (although dad is a Christian, which I find ironic considering he had an affair, but I am never to be smart or bring that up ever again..), she always said she loved the magic of it, how it brought people closer together, the feel of the air, the atmosphere, the lights, the decorations, wreaths, trees, lights, eggnog, cookies, mulled wine, presents, heck she even liked the carol singers, you name it there was not a thing about Christmas that she didn't like and that always brought a smile to our faces. Her vibe itself around Christmas could light up the tree.

She always dreamed of England at Christmas: seeing the lights down Piccadilly Circus, the decorations shining everywhere, the cosier darker nights with the diamonds shining up in the sky, and the snow. Oh how she wished for a white Christmas just once.

But with the years I've been here we've had nowhere near to a white Christmas. We got snow in the middle of March a couple of years back which was weird but that's about it. It's cold, yes and the nights are dark, and wet.. Usually very wet and when you're in the middle of the city its hard to see the stars sometimes but the lights are beautiful and they make up for the wet, windy island. And when the stars do reach through, they shine brighter than any diamond and I know she's shining up there with them.

She was beautiful; her hair dark, almost raven coloured so much so that when the sun shone on it you could have sworn you saw a flash of navy blue streak through. Her crystal, light blue eyes twirled around with the sparks the slashed around playfully, lighting them up halfway across the room. And her toothy grin, although she smiled through the kindness of her eyes, the soft warmth from her smile made you feel happier in an instance, it was affectionate.

Dad loved her so, he truly did and so did I. He called me irresponsible for not being around when she finally went. 

I was young, I didn't truly understand, I thought she'd be around forever.

I was 9 years old when she was diagnosed with cancer after all.

And she fought a lot longer and a lot harder than anyone else had expected and even hoped for. She tried her hardest to make my childhood normal.

I wished she was still here.

I slowly let out the breath I was holding in, then take a couple of mouthfuls of drink.

I've got Anna. And the other four pretty spectacular people that surround me now. 

Anna has known them since her nursery school and they've been friends ever since, pretty much for almost 17years, and they jumped to include me in pretty quickly too which was reassuring.

Naomi: safe to say was pretty much the most popular girl of our year. Not because she was pretty, big baby eyes, her brunette hair turning a straw-like blonde at the fronts (due to her being more naturally ginger and it been dyed over the years) still shone against the sunlight, always perfectly straight. Not because of her hour-glass figure or her intellect but because pretty much she was bossy and everyone was scared of her. Yet somehow she wasn't a bitch nor was she ever nasty, she had a reputation and always made sure she got what she wanted which everyone respected. She now studies Business and marketing at a top Russell group University in Liverpool. 

Bartholomew: tough and yes a bit of a dick but would still pick you up when you were down, he always wanted to come across as a bit of a bad boy but actually is a lot nicer than I am. His eyes were enough to make all the girls swoon over him, bowing down on their knees-- yes quite literally. You'd stare into his clear crystal ball like eyes and see all your desires, making anyone want him more. Yet somehow as well as being a charmer and a massive man-whore he is the most sweetest, genuine, down to earth guy you'll ever meet. He lives with his now widowed grandmother as both parents work in central London and never see him. He works two jobs as well as an online night college course to help pay for his nans house. His parents actually help and do give them money but he never takes it so goodness knows where is goes.

Alfie: who actually looks about 12 no word of a lie. Probably the funniest person you'll ever meet whilst still having the pretty boy charms. For some reason always wears a hat, whether baseball cap or beanie. The amount of times it got confiscated at school and he would just whip out a new one.. Once from his pants actually. No matter what he would say or do he'd have halls of laughter following him. Ironically studies Psychology at Uni over in Lincoln.

And finally Balthazar: Although has more of a English accent than I every will, was actually born in France to French parents and just moved over when he was a kid. Obviously both fluent in French and English he is not afraid to bitch about you behind your back in either language. Which actually sucks for him, because all of us took French as a subject at school and afterschool classes just so we could understand what he was saying. But there's just something about him, him and I just clicked, straight away actually. I liked to say it was because this is technically our second home and we could relate but there was always something more than that, he cringingly understood me almost as much as Anna did. He stays at home and works at his parents’ business yet I rarely see him.

And then of course there was Anna: my slopingly bestest-friend I think I’ve ever had, business partner and quite literally partner in crime. Loose curls of blood red hair float down flinging around as she jumps up and down in excitement, hugging each of our friends individually whenever she sees them. Although whilst actually having a bit of a resting bitch face, and not that you’d think it but she’s the kindest person, other than my mom, I’ve ever met. And she’s a hugger alright. She brings us all together. A group of different characters, personalities and dreams yet somehow she still holds us as one. We wouldn’t change them for the world. I wouldn’t change her for the world. 

“You alright Cassie?” Balthazar snaps me out of my admiring glance towards my friends fighting over who plays doubles and who gets the que. 

My elbows are on my knees, chin cupped in my hands. I’m leaning forward as Balthazar places down next to me, hand patting my inner thigh then rests back placing his arm onto of the seat, behind my shoulders. He’s rather forward like that. 

I hum in response. 

He smiles faintly as I can see him quickly glance at me from the corner of my eye before he joins me to look back over to the others. 

There’s a moment of silence, our knees are gently touching, neither of us saying a thing, just watching the other play and mess up shots. 

“Fancy being my partner in the next game?” He finally breaks our silence. 

I half smile. I nod. 


	2. Two

** Just over a year before the wedding  **

He hit me and I don’t know where it came from. 

I knew he was drunk but even when drinking he had never been violent. 

My father was sly and sneaky, not the fighting, tough kind. He used words as his tortue, not his punches. He was weak in both respects like that. 

And honestly my mom wore the trousers in the relationship. 

I had only told him a couple of hours ago in which he said nothing, just left, to a pub I assume. 

But he had just pushed me over, I had taken one of the dining room chairs down with me, one of it’s legs snapping in an instance. 

He was mumbling something that I couldn’t quite make sense of, rambling in an instance, slurring. 

He walks over to me, swaying a little, his eyes glistening with tears filling the brim. 

I prop myself up by my elbows and try to scurry back a little, he follows, of course.

My jaw aches from where he impacted it a couple of minutes ago. It wasn’t strong enough to dislocate it but it’s still gonna bruise. 

His knuckles are red and a little bloody, grazed at the top, he’d obviously been fighting beforehand. 

He folds down, knees digging into my thighs, I wince but still don’t move. My breathing harsh as I stare into his eyes, I no longer recognise the man in front of me. 

Yes I was taller and stronger and fitter than him but I’d never hit my own father. 

“No.” He spits as he punches my jaw again, harder this time. 

My head flies over to the right via the impact, I try to clench but nothing but a cry of pain happens. 

He takes a fistful of my shirt, “you don’t get to leave.” Another punch as I slowly look back round at him. 

Another one.

And another.

Yet every time I look back at him. 

“You should have been there!”

Another.

My ears are now ringing, the sounds of waterfalls gush through, my jaw numb, blood drops on the top of my lip. 

“You’re not leaving me like she did! Not you too!” 

Tears begin rolling down his cheek as he stares at me and I believe for the first time since he came home he’s truly seeing what he’s done. 

My eyes are watering, more out of pain than fear or anything, yet I still look into his eyes, I want him to realise what he’s just done to his own son. 

“Come back to me.” His eyes drop and he starts to retreat, his voice soft yet breaking at the same time, he believes he’s lost me? Or did he just see mom in me? 

Yet before I’ve realised what happening or who he thinks he was talking to my dad is thrown off of me, into the table, almost a look of disgust and annoyance flashes across his face as another man clambers onto of him madly throwing strikes, my dad taking it, no retaliating. 

“Fuck you, Chuck, you dick!” He spits. 

I sit up, face still aching as I watch the back of the man with the dark, dirty blond hair beat up my father. 

For a moment he stops; green eyes stare back at me. 

“Dean, stop!” I manage to wimp out. 

** About 4 years earlier **

** Christmas Eve  **

“I’m breaking!” Anna chirps as she grabs a que off of Bart.

“Yeah that’s fine but we need to sort out teams first!” Bart comes back with, snatching the que back off her. 

Anna childishly sticks her tongue out at him as I pass her the other que that was propped up against the pool table. She smiles at me.

“Right, Anna and Naomi, Alfie and Bart and Cassie and I.” Balthazar chimes in causing everyone to agree. “Killer?”

The others nod, pretty excitably. 

Basically Killer is a game when each team have 9 lives. Each go you technically lose a life, but if you pot a ball, any type, your lives don’t go down, yet if you miss you lose that life, if you pot the white you lose 2 lives but if you get the black in you get 2 extra lives. 

Lots of swearing and shouting at each other does usually happen but it’s usually lots of fun. 

We play a few games of single and doubles in ordinary pool, then set onto Killer. 

The game goes on and as normal a few cuss words are scattered here and there jokingly towards each other. 

Bart and Alfie got out at least two rounds ago, plus Naomi decided she didn’t want to play so sat down with the boys leaving Anna VS Balthazar and I. And honestly Anna was good. 

Me on the other hand, not so much. 

I was decent enough, won a fair few games and had the advantage that I could use both hands to play which made tricky situations easier to get out of. Yet I was jammie, usually had luck on my side, no real skill, I just enjoyed playing. 

Anna has three lives left whereas Balthazar and I have two and it’s my turn. 

I stare at the table, a little puzzled to what shot I’m gonna take when Balthazar leans closer to my side, almost leaning into me he whispers what ball to aim for. I do as commanded, I want to beat Anna of course, I lean down and begin to set up. 

Hesitantly, I wait. Balthazar leans down with me, almost over and top of me, I know everyone is staring but I want to get a good shot, I don’t care, my stomach turns a little, do I care? 

He points where to aim and just as I’m about to shot we’re interrupted, “oh my god can you two just fuck already.” Alfie moans. 

Woah, where did that come from? 

I stare at him and I assume so does Balthazar, yet neither of us move. Naomi and Bart try to contain their sniggering and I can see Anna grin from the corner of my eye. 

“Oh Alfie don’t be silly, Cas is saving himself for marriage.” Anna slides in, I glare at her, she winks. 

They know I haven’t done  _ anything  _ with  _anyone_. 

I manage to tilt my head and look up at Balthazar and he shyly looks down at me, “permission to hit them?” 

He smirks and lifts himself up, “permission granted.” 

I throw my que on the table and run at Anna the other side, she begins to laugh getting herself into defensive mode. 

I go behind jabbing at her sides, she squeals, I hang onto her as she tenses up, falling back into me as I lift her up, she’s laughing yet trying to fight me. The others grin and roll their eyes at us.

“Alfie, help! You started this!” She exclaims. 

“Good point.” I realise and basically drop her before jogging over to Alfie and aiming for his sides too. 

Alfie basically surrenders by throwing himself on the floor, fake crying. He looks over at Naomi and Bart just sitting there on the booth, shrugging at him. 

I tower over him, looking down, I bend my knees, a sly look wipes across my face, I slowly ball my fist and fake about to throw a punch. 

Alfie balls himself up in defence, “no, no, please don’t fist me, I’m not into guys like you are!” 

I stop. Huh? 

“Alfie..!” I hear Bart sharply sigh. 

“Wait, what?” I say.

“Ah, you see Cas, fisting is-“ Balthazar starts.

“Yeah I know what it is, but really.. what no! That wouldn’t wor- just what?” I interrupt, a little confused on the meaning of the end of the comment. 

“Cas, we know you’re gay.” Naomi softly say. “We don’t care, this doesn’t change anything. You didn’t have to be worried about telling us, we love you no matter what.” 

“But not like love  _love_. ” Alfie buts in. 

Bart reaches and kicks him on the floor, Alfie winches a little for effect. 

I stare, a little dumbfounded. If I’m truly honest, coming out, dating, my sexuality never even really crossed my mind. 

I wanted something with someone yes of course, I was just waiting for the right person and then maybe I’d start to feel something. 

“Oh god he didn’t even know himself.” Balthazar says from across the table. 

“How did you know?” I ask normally, a little curious. Didn’t really believed I lived up to that stereotype. 

Bart gets up and stands next to me, I move back towards the table and lean against it, Anna and Balthazar move round to stand at the same side.

Bart offers a hand out to Alfie, who takes it, he begins to pull Alfie up when Alfie opens his move, “we found your gay porn.” 

The others moan at his comment as Bart let’s go of Alfie’s hand causing the smaller boy to fall back down, a small screech becomes of him. I laugh out loud a little. 

“All joke aside, Cas, we know you. We could tell.” Anna says as she places her head on my shoulder, reassuringly.

“Do you reckon dad knows?” I ask, almost feeling a little worried on what his actual reaction would be.

Anna shrugs into me, head still on my shoulder, “doubt it.” 

I let out a breath of noise, looking back at the pool table, suddenly feeling a little awkward honestly. 

I fiddle with one of the red balls, rolling it with my palm. I glide it towards an edge and it bounces back to me, I shoot it to a corner and it goes in the hole. I pick up a few more and repeat which obviously begins to agitate Balthazar as he sitting right on the corner. 

Anna has propped up, sparked up a little as she grabs a few more balls. 

Naomi, Bart and Alfie deep in conversation, I believe about me, still sitting at the booth.

Balthazar rolling his eyes at us and our childish games as he begins to take the balls back out and put them on the table, encouraging Anna and I to keep throwing them in the corner by him. 

He moans a little and I step towards him, stopping him from retrieving them. He pushes into me and tries to stop Anna and I from throwing the balls at him. 

I’m chuckling now as I gesture for Anna to pass the balls and move to a corner he can’t reach meaning I’ll hold him back. He’s behind me now, sides pressed close but I don’t mind. 

Does that mean I always saw him as more of a friend? 

He fights us, desperately trying to stop us, well me from potting the balls by hand, his touch never leaving my shoulders, side or hips. 

I hear Naomi finish her drink and stand up. 

“Guys we best head off, it’s almost midnight and we best be back before Christmas.” She says. 

Everyone agrees. 

Balthazar and Bart start clearing the table as Anna and I begin to take the empty glasses over to the bar. 

We grab our coats and set out. 

We all decide to walk as we all live within walking distance and the last drop off point is mine and Anna’s road and I can see her house from mine.

It’s a nice evening out, cold but still clear enough that you can actually see the stars tonight which is peaceful. 

We set out, thanking Hannah at the bar. 

Walking, we joke about old times back in high school and bitch about new friends at university and work. 

Anna links her arm through mine and I notice Bart and Naomi holding hands, they were very on and off at high school, very much the power couple of our year. I’m guessing they must be back on again. Wonder how long that’s been going on for. 

Alfie is first, he handshakes and pulls Balthazar in for a hug, cups Bart on the cheeks (all of them), kisses Naomi and Anna’s hands and then jumps up to peck me on the forehead. Weird kid. Then Bart who gives us all a friendly hug and wishes us a Merry Christmas, not that I’m entirely sure it will be. Naomi is next as she tightly embraces us individually. Then Balthazar as he lifts Anna up and then wraps his arms around me, rubbing my back a little, lingering. 

Leaving just Anna and I, we walk through a couple more roads arm in arm, not really saying anything.

It’s only a couple more minutes to Christmas but neither of us acknowledging this. 

I believe we’re at this point of our friendship where we feel comfortable enough to just be with each other’s presence and not always have the ability to destroy the silence with words. It’s not awkward. 

We finally reach my house. 

My watch strikes midnight. 

We exchanged Merry Christmas’s and promise to see each other tomorrow. 

I place a small kiss on her check as she smiles gratefully. 

“I love you.” She smiles, sincerely, she does truly mean it, I can see in her eyes. 

“I love you too.” I reply as I watch her walk a couple of houses down.

I wait before heading inside to make sure she gets in first. She sends out a small wave once she unlocks her front door and heads in as do I.

Once I enter, the warmth hitting me I notice the TV still on. I call for dad quietly yet no reply. 

I head into the lounge to see dad slumped out on his chair, fast asleep. I turn off the kitchen light and lockup, switching off the TV yet leaving a small lamp on the coffee table pulling a blanket over him.

“Merry Christmas dad.” I whisper knowing full well he can’t here me. “Merry Christmas mum.” I look up, knowing she’s always with me.

  
  


** 2nd January **

‘ _Drop everything now_

_Meet me in the pouring rain_

_Kiss me on the sidewalk_

_Take away the pain_

_'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile_

_Get me with those green eyes, baby_

_As the lights go down_

_Gimme something that'll haunt me whenever you're not around_

_'Cause I see, sparks fly, when you smile’_

“Cas, have you put the Taylor Swift playlist back on?” I hear Anna call as she comes out from the kitchen of our bakery. 

I stop singing to look up at her and nod. I’m in front of the counter cleaning the glass protecting today’s cupcakes. 

The bakery has a couple of families and young couples chatting quietly to one another, enjoying our baked goods. 

“Gotta love Taylor Swift.” I chime as she rolls her eyes at me. 

“Um, well in that note I’m going back in the kitchen.” She begins to walk away. “I’m listening to Olly Murs, now he’s closer to home.”

“Closer to home? She’s from the states as am I and as of Olly, he’s from Essex. Not that homely. It’s like over 40mins away.”

“Close enough!” She shouts as the doors fold back behind her. 

I chuckle to myself as I head back behind the counter, the doors reopen and Anna pokes her head round, “oh and incoming customer!” 

I look towards the front door to see a young man, my age must be, his almost dirty-blond hair styled back, tailored suit and long black trench coat. His hands in his pockets, he walks up to the till, toothy smile flashed at me. As he approaches closer his emerald eyes sparkle off of the long mirrors on the walls’ reflection. 

“Hiya, what can I get for you.” I ask professionally. 

“Well you’re not English. But boy am I glad to hear someone with a proper accent here.” He replies, a voice I was not expecting to come out of what I will admit a very pretty face, deep and American. 

I let out a small snigger and a half smile, “yeah California originally.” 

“Nice, I’m from Kansas. I’m Dean by the way.” 

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Cas. What can I get you, Dean?” 


	3. Three

**About 2 years before the wedding**

What is he doing? 

Can he not take a hint? 

I shift ever so slightly, trying to avoid his contact yet his shuttles over closer to me, breathing against my neck, making me pretty uncomfortable. 

“Oh c’mon Cassie.” He smirks and I look at him, not really wanting too. “I knew from that first night in the bar years ago we’d have something.”

“Don’t call me Cassie.” I bounce off the end of the hostels bed we’ve set down on. 

I run my fingers through my hair, pushing it up, shaking my head slightly, eyes squinting. 

He sets back, shoulders broad, elbows locked to support his position. 

“Oh right yeah sorry I forgot, only your little  friend calls you that.” He rolls his eyes, chucking his head back.

Reminding me of a memory of my dear friend from a couple of years back, I should have highlighted the word friend in my head, it was never destined to become more and I ruined a perfectly good friendship for what, because I was curious and potentially mad at someone else, that I barely knew at this time I may add.

“Don’t mention that, I felt guilty enough as it was.” I fold my arms. “Look, can you maybe leave, I’ve got loads to do and still need to pack.” 

“Aww Cas, you don’t have to play hard to get.” He steps up and paces over to me, almost seductively. 

I am not doing it  here  with  him.

“Hannah, look I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong idea but no, I don’t want to do this.” I say politely, backing up slowly until my back collapses against the faded yellow wall. 

He still follows.

His stare turns a little cold, almost power hungry, like a predator eying up its prey, round to quite literally bounce any second and I’m nervous now.

He’s older, and yes only an inch or so taller but still taller and has a lot more muscle. 

I’m not thin but he even makes me look lean. 

“C’mon Cassie, you know you want too.” Hannah, now pinning me quite literally against the wall adds, lust dripping in his voice. 

“No I really don’t.” 

My back tightly joined to the wall, his body still following, leaning closer into mine. 

I thrash a little, this, just turn him on more so. He licks his lips, looking me seductively up and down. 

“Yes, you really do.” A devilish tone lingers through his voice.

Oh god. I know what’s going to happen now, I know that I can’t fight him or even push him away.

My arms forcibly hold against his torso trying to push him away, to really let him know I don’t want this. 

His mouth clambers down hungrily on my neck, almost biting away. I try to shake him off but it’s no use. 

“Stop.” I beg continuously.

But he carries on going and I want to knee him in the gut, in his balls or even stamp on his foot but my body goes silent, rigid and I can’t move. 

My brain is screaming at it to do something, to tuck and run but my heart beats faster and faster as my body betrays me and I know I’m pretty much going to become an actual sex doll for this man.

He swiftly managed to tack off my pants, then his own and out of our underwear all at the same time I can feel the after impact of him pleasuring himself, harder and faster he moves and his arm bangs against my stomach. My eyes are glued shut, still silently pleading for him to stop. 

My shallow breath becomes hitched as he vigorously claws into my shoulders and spins me round. I grunt at the force as my torso is now pinned against the sandpaper like wall, causing burn like irritations spiral up my skin. 

It’s about to happen. I suppose at least he doesn’t mess around. 

I hear him put his fingers in his mouth, soaking them up. 

Before I know it he’s forcing them up my passage causing me to flinch, a single tear begins to roll down my cheek as I feel as if he’s trying to literally tear me in half.

I try to press my whole body closer to the wall in hope that it will suck me into it so I can escape, and maybe awaken in my own bed staring into the face of the beautifully green eyed boy and not into the dim, yellow, cold stoned wall that I’m being fucked against. 

After playing around a little he proceeds to ram his hardened dick inside me, my body clenches and my hips thrust forward trying to avoid his contact. Obviously that doesn’t work. 

I hold my eyes shut even harder in hope that my senses will block out the feeling of him thrusting against me, his groans of pleasure and power at the same time, the smell of my sweatiness because of fear and disgust and his sweaty body from doing all the work rubbing against each other. I bit my lip— hard. The iron taste of blood lingers around my mouth as I hold my breath. 

I want this to be over.

I feel embarrassed. Weak. Used. It’s not my fault.

Then why do I feel dirty? 

Saying that, why did I come here? Why did I leave? Why did I say hello to Hannah when I brushed past him in the courtyard? Why didn’t I just go home? Why did I leave Dean? 

**About 3 years earlier**

**Start of the new year at the bakery**

He ordered a slice of key lime pie and a cup of coffee. 

It was early morning and he was in a suit. 

He smiled at me as I began to pour his coffee, I wondered where he was off too. 

He’s cute, I have to admit. 

He noses off, looking around the inside of the small building on the corner of the street. 

I cannot help but stare at him ever so slightly, pinning my blue eyes onto his attire. The mornings sun beaming through the side window, radiating the light bouncing off of his face, highlighting the freckles playing around on his cheeks, his emerald eyes bronzing over due to the sunlight as he glances down at the newspaper on the side. 

He flicks up, looking up through eyelashes, his lips pursed. I panic a little and push his coffee over to him, reaching for a box to grab the pie out, I swear a see a faint smile pursue his lips. 

“So how comes you’re over here then?” I ask, genuinely curious and almost a little excited to receive his answer. 

“Oh I work in Queens, 3 days a week.” Dean smiles as I hand him his goods. 

Vague, but still giving me enough information to keep me interested, he’s a little mysterious.

Queens hospital was barely a 10 minute walk to the right whereas the station was over to the left as you exit out of the bakery. 

He taps his card to my reader, transferring the money over.

“I moved over here about 6months ago to Central London with my um—“ Dean pauses, hesitates, almost thinking what to say. “And ahh— well my parents and brother moved over here too, them not permanently though. What about you then?”

I rest my hands on the counter, supporting my upper body; facing Dean as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

“Moved over here around 5 years ago now with my dad. Now own this place with the little red head back there in the kitchen.” I smile, continuing to look at him yet point behind me, past the double doors with circular windows visibly presenting Anna baking. 

“Oh.” Dean says, a hint of almost disappointment flashes through his twinkling green eyes as he looks behind me. “You’re a little young to be owning a bakery aren’t you?” He smirks.

I blush a fraction, “we don’t own own it as such. Our bosses technically retired and moved more to the country side and gave it to us.” 

“Well it’s a nice place. I’m hoping the pie tastes as good as everything else in here looks.” He winks. 

My cheeks begin to rose.

I stand here talking to a complete stranger thinking of how good looking he is and the curiosity deep down inside of me wants to expose to find out every detail about him,  every last detail.

His dirty blonde hair gelled aside, parting slightly below centre and draps of smoothly stuck together short hair falling towards his face, a little messy from the Underground’s rush hour. 

The top button of his pearly white shirt undone and folded back ever so slightly revealing his chiselled collarbone. 

My eyes slowly track down, taking in how his tailored suit hugs and clings around what I can only assume by his figure is a very nicely toned body. 

_Cas, stop._

My eyes dart back up to his face to find him grinning, childishly. 

I stare into his eyes, just for a moment yet a feeling overlooks me, corrupting me to feel lost. 

“Cas, I’ve told you to change the Taylor Swift playlist.” Anna, barges through the doors, breaking our gaze.

She looks between us, back and forth, as Begin Again starts to play. 

“Sorry to um.. interrupt—“ Anna stands next to me, last word almost sounding like a question with a slight heat filling up my cheeks as I watch her slow every move. She smiles at Dean who retaliates, then spins round, faces me and jumps on the tip of her toes, practically glaring at me. “Change. The. Playlist.” She speaks slowly and clearly to prove her point.

I roll my eyes at her as I hear Dean snigger in front of me. Anna rolls round on the balls of her feet, sassily flicking her hair as she struts back into the kitchen. 

I sigh in almost defeat. “What should I change it too?” I shout out to her as I remove my phone from my pocket getting up songs linked to the speaker. 

“One Direction.” Dean shrugs.

I snap up, eyebrows furrowed, “really?” 

“No.” Dean cracks, shaking his head slightly, smirk growing evermore. “Nah, put Top 50 on or something.” He suggests.

“But there’s loads of inappropriate Rap songs in there.” 

“Good point, maybe not then.”

“I would say, there are kids in here after all.”

“Put Olly Murs on!” Anna shouts from the kitchen, causing me to roll my eyes once more, cursing ‘really’ under my breath.

“Olly Murs it is then.” Dean let’s out a chuckle through his nose picking up his coffee in one hand and his piece of pie in the other.

He turns to slowly walk away as I place my phone back in the my pants rear pocket.

He stops and looks back about two steps later, “I’ll see you around then, Castiel.” Dean gives me a toothy grin, turns, and proceeds to shutter off, out of the bakery and tracking right, out of sight. 

What on Earth was all that and who was he? 

And why do I want him to return just to stare into his eyes, like walking through a cave, finding the emeralds you’ve only ever dreamt away and pining for them. 

“Cas?” A voice picks me up from my trance. 

I shake my head, snapping back into reality, shaking the image of Dean from my mind, for now that is. 

How long was I thinking about him anyway? Surely not that long. 

“Earth to Cassie!” The voice causes me to looks up in front of me, dirty blond hair replaced with a lighter blond, green eyes being taken over by blue, Balthazar stands before me instead of the man that was there momentarily. 

“You okay?” He asks. “Bit of a trance, I see.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, just a little tired.” I fibbed. “What are you doing here?”

Balthazar let out a breathy laugh, “well it’s nice to see you too Cassie.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that to be rude, just a little surprised if I’m honest. You guys never pop in just to say ‘hello’, usually you’re working anyway.”

“Honestly, Cas, it’s fine. Is Anna here?”

“Yeah she’s out back. Want me to grab her?”

“No, no, I’ll say ‘hi’ in a moment. I actually care to ask you something.” He looks almost nervous.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Balthazar nervous before. He’s always so chilled, laid back, confident, no matter the situation.

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah it’s fine! Just actually wondered if you wanted to go out sometime? Say maybe next Friday evening, for dinner?” His voice quietens by the end of the sentence.

Call me naïve but I did not see that coming nor even  _really_ thought Balthazar was gay. 

Heck, who am I kidding, I obviously don’t pay that much attention, I never even really knew it myself but by how I showed that much attention to Dean I feel it’s pretty obvious I am. 

Yet haven’t I actually wanted something like this for ages, deep down? 

Someone that knows the ins and outs of you, that you can take that jump with, someone you trust, that makes you laugh, happy when you’re sad and calms you down when you’re angry. Someone that will take you on dates and show you the ropes to things. That you can show off too and that will show you off too. 

Do I want that with Balthazar? 

Jesus Christ, Cas.

He asked you for dinner, not to fucking marry him! 

But I don’t want to make things weird. He’s part of our group and if we screw things up now that can make things awkward in our meets. 

Maybe, he literally just wants to get dinner.. like as friends? 

Yeah and he’s planning ahead in advance.. yeah sure.

Stop overthinking thi—

“Yes.” Was the word that came out of my mouth, almost taking us both my surprise, Balthazar looking relieved in such. “I’d like that.”

A grin plastered onto my face, beaming pretty much from ear to ear. Was this just me being polite or was I genuinely excited? Even I didn’t know.

“Great! I’ll text you later then!” He replied, a smitten look playing on his face. 

He smiles at me, then spinning round on his heels, he turns away.

A feeling drops in my stomach and I can’t help but wish it was actually the stranger that had asked me out instead of one of my best friends.

God, I hope I don’t ruin this.


	4. Four

I sat at the end on the staircase, looking out towards the front door of my house. My burgundy-red bomber jacket lays calmly around my torso and plain sneakers tapping alone with my feet underneath me, nervously, impatiently. My hair still a little messy as per usual but at least I tried to brush it. 

I had told my dad that I was going out with the group, not just Balthazar. Surely he doesn’t need to know that. 

Anna knew, and of course acting a little frantic over the situation, she was just happy that potentially I would finally get some...  someone . Plus potentially being one of our closets friends too she was glad it was him out of anyone I would hold my first date with.

Balthazar had told Bart that something was going on who of course told Naomi. I believe Alfie was the only one unaware but I’m glad. Everyone was blowing this too much out of proportion honestly. 

This, however, did mean I got a rather protective message from Bart late evening of the day Balthazar did ask me out. Nothing bad, just your usual ‘if you hurt him, I’ll mess you up’ type of thing. 

I didn’t think that much of it but I did get that sinking feeling even though I’ve never hurt anyone like that in my life I did believe I was truly going to hurt him.

Balthazar has messaged me a couple of times during the week, we weren’t talking constantly but it was technically no more than we would have usually messaged each other. 

I’d never been one to flirt or even be good at it and I’d be sure not to call the message between us flirtatious whatsoever. 

There was a bit of a connection if I’m being truthful yet nothing like the stories or films, not really exactly how I’d imagined it. 

But that’s life, it’s not a story, you’re never going to get that complete everlasting connection and profound bond with another person. People are just too different. 

I had always dreamt, growing up honestly, that I’d find someone when I was young, fall completely in love with them, share all my stories and secrets and flaws with them and they’d know what to do. Someone that would truly get and understand me and I them. Basically go through life with them, appreciating all of the firsts and sharing them together. That nothing would come between us. 

But now I honestly do believe that’s a true, childish fantasy. 

My eyes flick up to the knock on the front door. I jump up and take a breath in, grabbing my keys I shout a goodbye to my father as I open the door to reveal Balthazar standing there, he gives off a small smile and I breath out almost a little disappointed,  what I was actually expecting I don’t know. 

We both exchange a whispered hello as I quietly shut the door.

We head out and towards his car, I don’t know why I’m so nervous, I’ve known him for around 5 years now, we’ve been through much, him and I. 

The nights cool, crisp air lingers on my skin, the winters night smell drifts like a crunched leave, a wet pavement and pine. All I’m wanting is to close my eyes letting the chill air caress my showing skin, to let it weave through my hair, brushing it around, whispering greetings calmly in my ear and hushing me into a trance. 

But I step into the car, the warm air hits my face the moment I bend into it, the heating blasting through. The warmth causing the blood rushing to my face, making me feel a little flustered; hot and bothered. 

Balthazar starts up the car and pulls away.

We engage in small talk, how has your week been, how was your day, how’s your dad, questions like so. 

I have a faint idea that we may be heading into town as traditionally that’s where all the restaurants are. It’s only a short drive from mine. 

“So where are we going?” I finally ask. 

“It’s a surprise.” He replies.

I roll my eyes, half grin places on my lips as I see him look across faintly, “c’mon Balth you need to tell me. I’m guessing we’re eating at a restaurant.”

“Of course.”

“Town?”

“Yep.”

“What one?”

“Guess.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You know I hate guessing.”

“Don’t really care— guess.”

I sigh and grunt a little out of annoyance primarily. 

It’s true, I hate guessing. Not necessarily because I hate getting the answer wrong more like I don’t like offending or upsetting people in the process.

There’s a strip in town, of several restaurants, some facing a park opposite, shops behind. Just your typical restaurants: Nando’s, McDonalds, TGI Fridays, Five Guys, Wildwoods , Bill’s and a couple more. Mainly your pizza/burger & chips chained restaurants. Nothing expensive and certainly not the healthiest but damn they were all good. 

We finally pull up to one of the back car parks giving me two options equalling TGI’s and McDonalds, I know that Balthazar isn’t that cheap and certainly has more dignity to take his date to McDonalds. 

“Well I’m guessing we’re going to TGI’s then.” I grin smugly to Balthazar as we exit out of his car and walk towards the buildings.

He nods then checks his watch. “We’ve actually got 30minutes before our reservation. I wanted to make sure we were here in time in case there was any traffic. Want to do a little bit of browsing?”

I know it’s Friday night and the kids still aren’t back in school but it is a little later than the usual rush hour and it’s never usually too bad around here, was picking me up at least 45minutes before our reservation time just an extra reason to spend more time with me? 

But I nod as we direct our route towards the centre. 

I walk quickly trying to keep up with him, hands wedged in my jean pockets. 

We walk around the shops for a little while, conversation flowing when given. He always heads into the shops before me but I always let him. 

We walk past an old familiar face from school, Balthazar didn’t see her but I did. I put my head down and scurry away trying to avoid eye contact.

Almost as if I don’t want her to see me alone with Balthazar, it’s like I’m borderline apprehensive that she’ll tell others or she’ll think wrongly of me. 

I press myself closer to Balthazar, he not taking any notice as I pick up my speed to keep up with his unusually fast pace.

I don’t see her again, thankfully. 

The nights breeze whistles against my unprotected skin, my coat not blocking my neck and of course leaving my face bare. The temperature has dropped a little and my nose becoming almost numb at the tip, feeling the sting when I place my thermal, clement hands against it and my cheeks too. 

We walk from shop to shop, placing in and out. I catch a glimpse of the stars above and for a second, although faint I believe I saw a shooting star flash by, causing the stars around to glisten ever so brighter. 

The Christmas lights still up around the shops windows, on the railings separating us from the road and trailing, spiralling, climbing up lampposts, twinkling and shining, joining in with the stars above. 

The heat hits once we step into each shop just causally browsing, looking at different tops and sweaters, no actual desire to buy anything. And finally after a little while Balthazar checks his watch then ushers me back towards the restaurants. 

It’s not too busy inside considering it is a Friday night, quiet enough for me.

We follow the waitress that smiled and greeted up once we walked through to our table. Out of all of the tables it’s a circular booth up against the side wall, viewing the people come and go from the window, big enough to seat maybe 5 people yet there’s only him and I. We’re seated towards the pathway to the rest rooms which is handy. 

I slide in first just as Balthazar gestures and the waitress hands us out menus. 

Once the waitress leaves Balthazar slides a fraction closer to me. I almost stiffen a little then remind myself that it’s silly and that I have to relax, I just have to act normal around him. 

We discuss what we’ll be having and he springs on be that he’ll be a true gentleman and pay for our meal once we’ve finished. Obviously in which I try say I’ll pay at least something which he denies. 

We order drinks, he buys me an alcoholic beverage which I feel might calm the nerves a little or give me a pinch more confidence, yet obviously he doesn’t as he’s driving. 

The drinks eventually come and I sip mine regularly as we reminisce about high school and relive all our old stories: good, bad and the embarrassing ones. 

The waitress walks past us and smiles regularly and I start to feel a little more at ease. 

I’ve relaxed and once the food comes it doesn’t feel awkward even if we’re silent, I’m actually really enjoying myself. 

And for the first time, although I had my suspicions and glances of it, I actually look at my friend in more and in a different light. It’s nice. 

I’m halfway through a bite of my chicken fajita, looking down at my plate in-front of me when out of the corner of my eye I see a figure strut past, almost then stopping, hesitating in their tracks and double backing. I look up at him to come in contact with some emerald green eyes I’ve placed into just the week before belonging to the gorgeous boy with the dirty blond hair. I chew faster letting out a noise of acknowledgment as he stares at me, wide-eyes, grin playing too. 

“Cas, hi!” He speaks, causing Balthazar attention to spike up and place onto the man standing before us. 

I swallow my food, wiping the corners of my mouth with the back of my hand before smiling up at him, “Dean! What a surprise! Nice to see you again.” I say, being polite, deep down a feeling in my stomach whirls, I’m glad he’s here.

Balthazar looks back at myself, then Dean, and carries on doing so as we ignite small talk. 

“Yeah you too, what are the chances.” He smirks at me.

I let out a soft smile, glimpsing down, “what are you doing here? I swore you didn’t live around this area.” 

He lets out a small breath, almost mimicking a slight laugh, “no my brothers staying over around here for a couple of days from the states and I thought I’d take him out to dinner.” 

I smile and nod, letting out a faint ‘oh nice’, Dean slowly nods before words seem to come to a halt all together and I just fixate upon his eyes again, God I could get lost in them.

The jade like swirls sway like the colour of spring grass coming through after a wet and windy winter, green like American money. Freckles faintly popping around his nose and cheeks like dew drops on an autumns morning, pushing through his dull-ish complexion, just lacking the warmth of the sun being masked by the winters overcast. His hair darkened, to which I can only imagine will get lighter when it feels that summers sun beam down, defining every highlight, and once it gets stripped to its natural state minus the gel slapped on for a professional look. Slight lines sit above a almost grey cloud underneath his eyes; he’s tired, maybe been up late or over working? Yet the lines peeking at the tops corners tell another story, lots of laughing, smiling. He’s smiling at me right now. His eyes sparkling, beaming at me when doing so.

I suddenly feel Balthazar shift next to me, snapping back into reality even if it was barely for a second I realise I am being a little rude.

“Oh I’m sorry,” I state, “Dean, this is Balthazar, Balth, this is Dean.” I gesture to them each as they pass each other a slight head nod and smile. 

“So how do you two know each other then?” Balthazar pipes up, almost a hint of annoyance or even jealousy playing on his voice. 

For a split second I believe it’s going to be one of those awkward moments in a movie where the two characters fight and talk over each other for an explanation or one won’t let the other speak as they make up a false scenario. But that wasn’t the case, Dean looks over to me, allowing me to explain to my friend where I first came across this pretty much stranger and why I actually feel so comfortable around him. 

“Dean came to bakery last week, right before you came in actually,” I look over to Balthazar, “right as Anna was moaning at me for playing Taylor Swift.” 

Dean let’s out a slight chuckle whereas Balthazar almost stares through me as if he doesn’t get a form of small banter.

“And let me just say, this man-“ Dean is talking to Balthazar yet pointing and looking towards me, “this man makes the best pie I think I’ve ever had, and I honestly don’t say that lightly!” 

I take my gaze away, flustered and flattered at the compliment, feeling both of their eyes following my move. 

“Well, I best get back to my brother.” Dean says, causing my eyes to snap back up to his, smile fading slowly. 

For a moment I swear I could feel Balthazar sigh down next to me, furrowing his brows towards myself. 

“Of course,” I politely smile, “it was nice seeing you again, Dean.” 

“Yes, you too, Castiel.” Dean grins slightly holding his gaze towards me for a second longer before looking towards Balthazar, nodding with a smile attached and walking away. 

I pick up my food and continue eating, Balthazar does the same. Almost an awkward feeling hovering in the air. Neither of us bringing up Dean for the rest of the night, we carry on just how we were, well almost how we were.

We finish our food and actually get a dessert to share between us. I get full halfway before I give up so Balthazar finishes it for me.

Eventually, after another drink or two he calls for the bill in which I excuse myself and head to the bathroom.

I stagger up the staircase, music blasting a little louder than it should through my ear. My vison blurs for a second and my head knocks as in about to welcome an compulsion or intrusive thought or even a migraine. All of which things I struggle terribly with truth be told. 

I’m no light weight with handling my drink but technically I’m not even supposed to be drinking. Dad would murder me if he found out. 

Due to personal health reasons I’m on medication that heightens the affects of alcohol, which in theory, yes does actually make me a light weight. 

I suppose it’s not good when you’ve been getting chronic migraines everything week for 3 full days at a time since you were 18, or when you’re taking almost calmers to restrict the scrupulously (religious OCD) from taking over and controlling your mind... being drunk and fighting them both at once is not easy. Yet I stupidly still do it. 

I don’t feel too bad and of course lucid, therefor not drunk nor even tipsy, just a little giggly in such. I suppose that if I were to stack it right here and now I wouldn’t feel embarrassed, I’d just laugh. 

In the end of the day I feel a tad more confident and at ease. Which honestly is mainly when my mind starts playing tricks and manipulating me. However, feeling more confident was the plan after all. 

I finally make it into the toilet and go. 

I slide my way to the sink and begin washing my hands, not daring to make eye contact with myself in the mirror. 

The tap switches off automatically and I move over to the hand-dryer, which I’ve actually hated since a young child due to how loud the noise is. With my back turned I can never hear nor see anyone enter behind me. 

With that, the dryer stops, my hands are dry and I hear the door close behind me.

I turn my head behind me, body spinning round to follow expecting it to be Balthazar, obviously not really processing that we are in a restaurant with other people and the chances that it would be Balthazar aren’t the highest. 

But the person that I lay my eyes on isn’t very dissimilar. 

Dean.

I smile shyly at him half expecting him not to reciprocate. 

Yet he does and gives off a small wave. He puts his head down and makes his way to the urinal, I begin to head out. 

A faint ‘do I say something, do I not’ tension fills the room, but I ignore it and continue to walk towards the wall before you turn around the corner to the door. 

My back turned, I hear Dean abruptly stop, spinning on the balls of his feet, I slowly pause myself, I can feel his eyes on the back of my head, he hesitates.

“When are you open?” He blurts out.

“Pardon?” I slowly turn, looking to his direction.

“Yeah, sorry, that came out weird.” He cringes, “is your bakery always open?” 

“Closed Monday afternoon.” I tell him.

“You work pretty much 7 days a week?” He asks, almost looking impressed, he takes a step closer to me.

“Nah, Anna and I cover different shifts if we have too, but honestly doesn’t feel like work so I’m there everyday, yeah.” 

“You’re there pretty much every day, yeah?” He takes another step closer to me.

“Pretty much, yeah.” I step closer to him.

“Good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, “I work down at Queens every other day, family business purposes, if I make a request will you hold a slice of pie for me on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning?” 

Dean pouts ever so slightly, small smirk playing on his lips, his eyes peeking through his eyelashes. 

I smile and nod. “Of course.” 

I breath and my shoulders relax, drop. Our feet are pointing towards one another and they’re only a couple of inches away, he’s close. 

He smile beams, like an excited child. Yet he doesn’t move away, if anything I feel the heat from his body radiating more, swaying towards me. 

He doesn’t distract our eye contact, I feel my stomach flip and my heart beats, palpitating loud enough that it feels as if it’s holding in my throat. His eyes slowly wander down. 

What the fuck is this feeling? I don’t know him.

What the fuck is happening? I’ve never been in a situation like this before.

What the fuck is he doing? We’re pretty much just staring at each other. 

It’s like there’s 6 months of interaction and so called ‘feelings’ or attraction maybe, I’m not the most experienced with these things. And all of that has just been piled up to 3 minutes, squashed together and thrown at us in a little, growing ball, to witness in this room. 

Like some cringy Christmas movie where the main character goes back to the country after living in the big city and seeing her first love for the first time in years, that type of meet or reunion.

I finally let a breath I didn’t realise I was holding in escape slowly, my back is still towards the door but I hear it click open, footsteps and a familiar voice follows.

“Cassie, you still in here?” 


	5. Chapter 5

**11** **years ago**

“Cassiel, we’re going to be late for Church!” A voice called up from down the stairs, a nickname that only dares comes from this voice. A voice with a lingering stereo-typical ‘Cali-girl’ accent. 

I scramble to messily knot my tie and sprint downstairs. 

My dad sits, back towards us in his office, typing frantically at his computer. I never understood why he doesn’t come with us anymore. 

I grab my jacket before I’m being halted to a standstill and the woman before me gets down on her knees in-front and tidied up my take, stroking my chin caressingly after doing so. She smiles softly and her eyes beam and twinkle when she sighs. 

She doesn’t look sad, but she sounds it. 

She steps up and tucks her almost raven-midnight silky hair behind her ears, opens the front door, places a hand on my back; ushering me out, she calls a goodbye towards my father in which he doesn’t retaliate too. She closes the door behind us. 

We hop into the car together no noise existing other than the early morning birds chirping above us. 

The sun beams through the tall trees and houses opposite radiating on my face, causing me to squint my eyes a little due to it being lower as it is still early. 

I place myself into the back seat and press my seatbelt in, securing me in the car. 

She starts the car and drives out of our driveway. It’s only a couple of blocks away. The radio hums slight, quiet, gentle music and I look back and forth between the world running beside us and the mirror. 

Her sunglasses blocking her eyes but I hear her sniff and I know she caught a glimpse of me starting at her. 

“Mom, what’s wrong?” I ask. 

“Nothing sweetheart, I promise.” She sniffs again and replies short, adjust her glasses with one hand once she quickly rubs her eyes.

I may be young but I still tell when my mother is trying to cover up her sadness. Maybe her and dad had a fight about something? 

Maybe it’s because he never comes to church with us anymore? He used to every week, as do we now. Yet it’s just mom and I. 

Honestly he stopped about 6 weeks ago, and every Saturday night I hear them talking late through my walls, do they argue about him coming with us? 

I’ve always been brought up religious, as both my parents were. My mother is in with the Church community and my dad used to help the Priest with seminars actually. 

We’re there in plenty of time and I have a little time to play ‘tag’ in the front with my friends, my mom chats to the other holders in the community.

The bell rings and calls us in to sit and the weekly  show  starts.

The service feels like it sits through hours and hours on end but I give my full attention to everything going on, other all that’s how I was brought up. 

The Church is old and beautiful, always has been one of my fondest, oldest memories actually. 

Weddings, funerals, gathering, school choirs and meets all held here in my short life so far and I know countless more will be to view. 

The old pillars spiral up to the painted ceiling, displaying stories told years before I was born. 

Angel and Cupids sit against the walls with saints and prophets and such painted onto glass letting Gods light stream through. 

The Archangels Uriel and Raphael stand as stone painted statues behind where the preacher stands. 

At the end the donation box gets passed around, as usual, and of course mom adds a donation from her, myself and dad included. 

She passes it to me whilst she bends down to pick up her purse to get some money out. 

I stare at all the different quarters and cents and dollars and such and as if the building and people present comes to a slow halt, in a velocity like motion. 

I feel as if all the eyes in the room turn to me, including the angels on the wall. 

My head fells fuzzy and I feel my chest start to twitch underneath me, my hands clamp onto the box yet I feel the wrong motion or sudden more the money will flip and scatter everywhere. 

_Take it._

_Take it all._

_Run._

_Take it all and run._

Continuing to look at the money before me I furrow my brows, confused. 

A new voice replaces my own inside my mind, not my subconscious. 

A bad feeling, one my young mind isn’t used to a feeling of such yet succumbs me, sweeps my mind taking me straight to think of the all father. 

_Do it for him_.

For whom? 

_ For God.  _

_ He’d want you to take the money. _

_ Do it for him. _

_You’re one of his children after all, it’s all of you._

_He’d want you to have it._

Why? 

_ He’s telling you too. _

_ And if you don’t.  _

_ Well... _

_ Your mother will perish.  _

I sit there for a second not entirely sure what was happening nor what he meant to happen. 

My brain frazzled at the thought of the Gods above me talking through me. 

_ Wrong move, kid. _

_ You’re gonna regret this. _

_ And so will your mother.  _

Yet before I can act and do as they please my mom takes the box off me, places the money inside and then give it to our neighbour crashing me out of my thoughts. 

She smiles calmly to me then stands up taking my hand and leading me to the car. 

The car journey home seeming somewhat quicker and with us singing along to the radio together, giggling.

We arrive back home, I get out yet mum sits in the car. I know best not to interrupt dad when he’s working in the office and as mum I’m taking her time still in the car on the drive I run through the back yard, childish energy sprinting through me, I crash through the backdoor, through the kitchen and past dads office. But I stop just before he can see me. 

He’s talking.

Quietly. 

Not to anyone though.

Not on the phone.

I poke my head sneakily around the doorframe just enough so I can see him. His back still turned away from me so he can’t see me spying. 

He’s on his knees and his eye slammed shut with his hands clasped together. 

He mumbles but the last word is clear as day, “Amen.” 

He was praying.

Why is he praying but not going to Church with us? 

**11 years later**

**That Friday evening**

We had decided to go back to Balthazar’s house. I don’t know why I said yes when I suggested it. I was honestly tired. 

Maybe it was because I felt bad at the fact he passed Dean in the corridor. Why I feel awkward about it, I don’t know. 

But maybe it’s due to the fact I can’t say no to anyone because at the end of the day I don’t want them to think little of me. I don’t want to upset anyone at the end of the day. 

Or maybe I do actually want to go back with Balthazar, curious maybe, to see what may occur.

_Do it._

Dean had sighed and huffed rolling his eyes leaving in a hurry, not really saying anything to either Balthazar or I in the bathroom back at the restaurant. 

My body had started to twitch out of almost an anxious trigger. I shook it off, mentally slapping myself as I headed out of the building, Balthazar by my side to his car. 

The drive to his place was short and we hummed to the radio playing quietly against the late nights traffic passing. 

Eventually he parked up on his drive, locking the car after we got out we headed inside. 

“Are you parents here?” Stupid question as I saw their car outside but I wanted to be polite. 

Balthazar nods and points straight ahead of us which leads into the kitchen. 

“I just wanted to say ‘hi’.” I say and head towards the door.

Balthazar leans against the stairway, one foot on the bottom step, he laugh-sighs whilst rolling his eyes a little. 

“Of course you have to be polite.” He remarks yet I ignore him and knock slightly on the door hearing Balthazar join me as I enter the new room. 

I wonder if he had told his parents that he was going out with me tonight. 

I smile when I come in eye contact with his parents sitting at the kitchen diner.

Their grins becoming wide and eyes sparkle when they set onto me. 

I have been in his house countless of times due to homework and hanging out but that’s always with the others— never by ourselves. 

After some small talk and Balthazar leaning against the door friend behind me we excuse ourself and head upstairs to Balthazar’s room. 

Awkwardly I stand, hovering besides the exit, just incase I suddenly need to make a run for it. 

“You can sit down.” He informs me, flashing me a look that almost says ‘what are you doing?’. 

Balthazar pats against his bed right next to him and I perch down carefully. 

I let out a small breath and begin to relax as if I’ve just made a massive step towards something. He grabs the TV remote from his bedside drawer and switches on the TV in a swift motion flicking through Netflix.

It’s not too late but I inform him that I can’t stay long as I need to be up early in the morning to obviously open the Bakery, therefore hinting I don’t want to start a film. 

Without realising I excitingly burst out about the new season of ‘You’ as Balthazar scrolls down. 

Almost making him jump he chuckles at me as he sets his back against the beds headboard; I mimic him. 

We agree on starting that as he quietly makes a remark about maybe continuing it another time. 

Quite honestly I’m not expecting him to want to go out with my almost awkward, non-talkative self but yet I’ve never done this, he must know I’m nervous therefore that gives me some leeway, right? 

I’ve had a good night, yet I can’t help but feel guilty that if this ever gets broken off I’ve lost a very good friendship. 

Why I’d break it off, I don’t know.

Do I actually like-like him in that sense? 

We sit next to each other in silence, watching the episode. 

Smoothly and in a way I haven’t even noticed Balthazar curls his arm around me, pulling me somewhat closer.

And I want to shift the sudden small uncomfortableness off as a  scene  comes on the TV, yet I stay frozen not daring to even blink, whilst hoping he doesn’t feel my body tense up a little ridged from the upcoming sex scene playing in front of me. 

Thankfully it’s not long before it passes and I feel myself settle back down again, into his side. 

The adrenaline from the night starts to wear off and I feel my body begin to crash, relaxing in a way I’m not entirely comfortable, yet laying here I am somewhat am comfy. 

And I find myself going back to that question hovering my mind throughout the night 

He’s my friend; do I really want to go this extra step? Potentially ruining that? 

Minutes pass and I almost melt deeper into his side, arm hanging up against his chest. The feeling of his toned, masculine torso underneath my arm, his whole body underneath the power of just one of my arms. 

  
The back of my shirt has risen slightly and I found his hand linger to my bare skin of my back. His fingers caressing circles around the strip of empty skin.

I begin to twitch, not realising I’m somewhat ticklish yet not letting him on to that.

“You know I’ve felt this way for a while now, right? I just never knew if you felt the same, heck I never even knew if you truly knew yourself.” Balthazar says to me, as he shifts leaving me pressed hopelessly into his bed, he leans over me, hovering above me now, hand wandering up to my face as he smooths my cheek ever so slightly. 

I stare at him, almost too scared of breaking eye contact, I huff, “that makes two of us.”

“I mean we could all tell eventually, we know your dad wouldn’t have approved but we were all expecting you to come out to us and just not tell him.”

I shrug. 

“Or did you really not know yourself?”

“Honestly, I never even really thought about it.” I shrug again, almost a little uncomfortable as he edges closer, my heart beating faster, sitting in the back of my throat. 

“But what would you think about when you— you know? Wan-“ he starts as his eyes slowly move down to my lips.

I cut him off, “woah, okay! Too much! I’m not gonna talk about that.”

Thinking my abrupt reaction might jolt him back he apologises yet does not take his eyes off my lips, hesitantly looking up through lashes, he leans in closer obviously not quite getting the memo that maybe I don’t want this, considering surely by now I would have kissed him. I feel as if I’m acting a little skittish and my full attention isn’t quite on him. 

Do I want this? 

Again with that question. 

But do I want to kiss him? 

_ Oh for fucks sake, Castiel, just kiss him already!  _

With that I literally smash my face into his, lips crashing down, almost awkwardly as if I was only doing it to not only get it over and done with but so he would stop looking at me like that. He was quite clearly obviously waiting for me to make the first move, eyes filled with power-hungry contentment, the corners of his lips twitching almost waiting to pounce but yet trying to be seductive and teasingly at once. 

Then it hits me— I have literally no idea what I’m doing. 

What is it that they say with first times in the movies? That it’s special and magical? 

But this.. this is just wrong. 

  
I always believed for some reason I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else when I was kissing someone, yet all I can think about is well.. everything else.   
  


Of course I’m attracted to him yet somehow this doesn’t feel right. 

With that he licks my bottom lip, storming his tongue inside my mouth. My mouth opening uplike a pair of legs inviting him inside. 

All this about your body takes over and knows what it’s doing, knows where to fall, to press, to hold. Yet I still have no clue where to go, what to do. 

My eyes flutter open slightly and it’s looks weird but I just don’t have it in me to push him away, to tell him to stop. For some reason I’ll feel bad. 

The kiss is sloppy, and full of saliva, not exactly how I expected my _first kiss_ to go honestly. 

His hand grips down on my chest, wrinkling my shirt in the process. I expect by now the blood is rushing elsewhere for Balthazar yet I feel nothing. 

Maybe this is just a platonic relationship? 

I feel his hand slide down my chest, torso, in-line with my hips then around my belt, he begins to shove his hand down my pants. 

My eyes wide, I scramble. Pushing him off I panic a little.  Way to far. 

I shake my head and sit up, wiping my lips. 

A guilty look flashes across his face and for a moment I feel bad. 

But I didn’t ask him to do that. This is moving way too fast. 

He apologises quietly and I know he knows he pushed me a little too far. 

I stretch my back through a little and rub my eyes, a small yawn following. 

“You know the episodes finished, right?” I say sleepily. 

“Oh yeah, well you could always stay here if you want too, we could watch a couple more. I can drop you off at work in the morning?” Balthazar suggests.

I fixate upon the clock, not looking at him next to me. My eyes stay still and I slouch a little bit becoming too tense. 

Honestly I just want my own bed right now. 

I’ve walked far enough out of my comfort zone today, I couldn’t stay over tonight. 

I know what his intentions are, would he even wait for me? 

“No, not tonight, I need to get up early to sort some things out tomorrow anyway.” I say, finally looking up at him. 

“Okay, fair enough, let’s get you home then.” Balthazar says as I brush past him to step off his bed, he continues to sit there, staring down, covering himself. “Um, maybe give me a second.”

I chuckle slightly, mouthing an ‘O’. 

We quietly walk through the house towards his car, not side by side, myself following behind ever so slightly. 

Balthazar keeps walking, “I’d love to do this again.” He says, his head looking back barely. 

“Me too.” I find myself saying before even really processing and thinking. 

Before I know it, after another silent car ride, this time Balthazar’s hand has found its way into my lap, we pull up to my house. 

Ahead of the car light, no chance to flicker on, I deliver a small peck on his check before unbuckling myself and jumping out, holding the door still and turning back once before before we depart. 

“Thank you for a fun night.” I say before smiling genuinely and leaving him to head towards my house. 

Because that’s all it was, fun.


	6. Six

** About 10 years ago  **

“Castiel, what are you doing?” My father beckons at me as I cycle in a never-ending loop. 

I’m stuck in placing my shoes against the wall but always moving them together or apart or more to the left or more to the right; I can’t stop. 

Not until  _ he _ tells me it’s okay. 

“Just leave the shoes alone and go brush your teeth!” My father snaps, impatiently, giving my mom a look of confusion.

She scowls at him and slowly steps towards me, gently rubbing a hand on my back. 

“Why are you doing that, Cas?” She asks, calmly. 

I shrug, quickly thinking, “to make sure it looks nice.”

She pauses for a moment, I dip, head tucked down, back still facing them. 

“That’s not the reason, is it?” She always knows when I’m not telling the full truth.

“I dunno, am jus’ am.” I mumble.

“Try again.”

“Bored.”

“Then go brush your teeth ready for bed!” My father adds in. 

“Don’t snap at him, there’s clearly something the matter!” My mom whispers hardly towards my father. “Is something the matter at school?” She turns softly back to me. 

My blue eyes flick over to her as she places me in-front, kneeling down, shrinking herself. 

“Cassiel, you can tell me, I can help if something is troubling you. I’ve noticed you’ve been praying for hours on end when you think we’re asleep.”

It was true, every night, a ritual. And not just my normal— thank you Lord for everything I’m grateful for: the roof over my head, my friends and family, my education, my health, food, water etc but other such prayers I have to say word for word until I’m told it’s perfect, that  _he’s_ happy with me. 

My father crosses his arm against his chest, a flash look of worry breezes his face. 

“They’re telling me too.” I finally quietly pipe out. 

My mums brows furrow. “Who are they?”

“The Angels.” I reply.

“Angels? Which Angels?”

No ‘what Angels are you talking about’, no ‘that’s impossible Castiel’. Only the calmness and really trying to understand, as am I. I’m only a child after all, what could the angels actually want from me? 

“Raphael and Uriel. From the Church.” I say innocently. 

“What do they say to you?”

“If I don’t do what they say bad things will happen and God won’t love me anymore.” I pout. 

My mother sighs, she stares into my eyes, hers as blue as my own, softly smiling at me I notice her signal to my dad something by her side. He exits the hallway and enters the kitchen. She brushes my cheek and cups it in her hand. 

“There is never a moment where God will take out his anger with you my angel, he loves and will protect us on our journey forever. I’m afraid those aren’t the archangels talking to you but demons trying to bring you down. You are better than them; they fell, you’ve risen. You’re so brave for fighting these demons every day but I want you to stand your ground, say no as loud as you can to them. That’s what God wants. He won’t harm you or us. Don’t let them define you nor take you down, God is always walking aside you even when you believe he’s against you he’ll be piggyback carrying you all the way to the finish line. Don’t let it control you.” She dug through her pocket and fished out a wooden whistle-like pendant attached to a slight black rope, she stretched it a little then placed it around my neck. 

I took the pendant in my hands, looking down at it. It was old and worn, hand crafted by someone obviously years ago, I could tell that much. It was like a Totem-pole pillar frowning at me. Although worn and tired it was smooth to the touch. 

“Your grandfather gave that to me when I was younger because of the same reason, he was religious but not Christian. He believed this would protect me from the demons in my mind and in my dreams and I never once took it off. It always protected me because in times of distress, fear and worry, all the Gods will protect us even if we’re not their children.” My mom smiles as I look up at her. “I want you to have it now Cassiel, it has protected me enough and it’s your turn to feel safe.” 

I remember my parents taking me to meet a man, he had books neatly stacked up and placed in metal bookshelves all around his airy and light office. Light beamed through the windows making weird lines on the floor reflecting off of the blinds against them. He had kind eyes and a grey beard that was darker in more places, gradually turning lighter the closer it got to the middle. 

He would ask me what the demons would tell me to do and when they first appeared so of course I had told him.

I had said I was worried my faith to God wasn’t enough and he was punishing me and I was diagnosed with scrupulosity. 

I had overheard him say to my parents that even though I was a child, I had so much faith and hope in my eyes. That he’d hope I’d never grow out of that. 

** Now **

** (Saturday morning)  **

And I never truly lost my hope. 

My faith slowly crawled under my bed when my mom passed away and stayed there when I went through high school. Neither dad or I go to church anymore but I know we both still pray and believe in such.

Hard to say considering my sexuality and everything, but hey, the bible never says anything about gay angels and after all my mom always called me an angel! 

I understood that the belief said it was wrong because God made us to procreate and same-sex couples cannot. Maybe that’s why I never admitted it to myself. Maybe that’s why I never told my father. 

I still get intrusive thoughts and compulsions and maybe I have been overtaken by the devil but my moms words never left me, I try not to let it control me. Sometimes I do believe though that I get these compulsions because I like guys. Or maybe I’m gay because of the intrusive thoughts?  
  


I might figure that out one day.

I stand behind the counter cleaning the inside of the display. It’s early enough on a usual busy Saturday that everyone is still in bed, so I have a little while to present everything ideally. 

I position one of the cupcakes. Centre. 

_ Not right. _

I move it to the left. 

_ Not right.  _

To the right.

_ Still not right.  _

Fraction more.

_ Fine. _

“Cas?” A voice behind me, belonging to Anna softly speaks. 

I manage to ignore the display and snap round to face her, although every fibre inside me itching to adjust it some more,  until it’s _perfect_. 

“It’s a cupcake. I know it’s hard. But like your mother said— it doesn’t define you, don’t let it control you.” Anna reminds me, lightly clutching my arm, stroking my wrist with her thumb. 

I smile small at her.She helps me.

“So, tell me everything about last night!” Anna let’s go of my arm, “I noticed you got back rather late.” Knowing her, I assume she was practically staring out of the window all night until I would have driven past to my house.

I roll my eyes as she winks at me, I go back to putting out the display of baked goods. 

“Yeah it was really nice.” I say, my back turned.

“And?” She ushers me on.

“We walked around the shops for a bit, chatting, reminded me of old times back at school actually, that was fun.” I pause. “Um, food was good and then we went back to his afterwards.” 

Missing out running into Dean. I hear her faintly squeal a little under her breath.

“We watched some TV, he kissed me and then went home pretty much. That’s about it.” I finish. I don’t really want to tell her entirely what happen and the fact he tried to go further, she’d just believe I’m being a tad dramatic.

“He kissed you?” Her tone lowers and she doesn’t sound excited anymore. 

I turn around, her smirk wiped and her brows furrowed in such. 

“Yeah.” I say, almost questioning it.

“You don’t sound excited about that.” 

I shrug.

“Cas, I can tell you’ve had a crush on Balth for ages now, although on and off I knows it’s been there, I know you.” She’s true. 

It was always there, the attraction. Yet right now all I can feel is a pit feeling in my stomach as if I’ve just really hurt him. Or about to.

“Did either you or him message last night or this morning?” She asks. 

“Yeah he did. Just saying he had a nice time basically.”

“And that he wants to do it again?”

“Yeah, he said that at his too, as well.”

“What did you say?”

“Yeah, I’d like to too.” 

“Cas, what was your favourite part of the date?”

“I dunno, probably walking around the shops. That was fun, we had a laugh.”

“I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“It’s more friendship-platonic. You don’t like him as much as you believe you do. You said the best part of your night was basically hanging out with him as friends. Something is holding you back. We pretty much forced you out and you latched onto the first guy you could. Almost out of fear that you’ll have to go through something alone. Or that you’re trying to force yourself into something that part of you is screaming that you’re not ready for.”

I stare at her. I never understood how she always comes up with the wisest, yet scariest things somethings, quite frankly I do believe she knows me better than I know myself, finding thoughts I never even knew I had locked away in there.

“Don’t psycho analyse me.” I make out, pouting a little, looking away from her grasp. 

“It’s okay, we have to go through some to find some.” And the smirk is back. “You have to tell him. Or you have to push through this block that is telling you you’re not ready, you’ve got a choice. Potentially lose him or get very deep into something that you’ll regret soon. It’s your choice.” She steps away and heads towards the front door flipping the sign over to let every know we’re actually open as I had forgotten to do so. 

I finish arranging everything in silence and Anna heads back into the kitchen. 

She’s right, I think deep down I had always been panicking truly. Almost 20 years old: never had a relationship, never had sex or done anything with anyone and literally just had my first kiss. 

I’ve always been a believer of I’ve got my own set path to follow and I’ll be lead on my way— that everything happens for a reason and not to rush Gods work. 

But I believe I got distracted; wanted to push into something when I wasn’t 100% myself or even ready to even dip my toe in the water, better yet fully dive in. 

I need to breathe again. Slow. I know when I’ll be ready. I can’t force myself on anything. 

“Cas?” A voice snaps my head out of the display cabinet, away from my thoughts and back into normality.  
  


He just keeps popping up.

I stand and stare up bumping my head on the top slightly then locking into the emerald greens eyes I came in contact with last night. He’s slightly taller than me. Only by about an inch. How did I not realise that before.

“Dean.” I say deeply, his name flowing out of my throat, I pick up the rag from next to me, almost out of comfort to hold onto something.

“Are you okay?” A flash on concern flickers in his eyes and the lights bounces off them once he moves a fraction, making them glow with spits of gold dust playing around in the iris’. 

“Sorry yeah m’fine.. wasn’t paying attention.” I cover and he grins small. “Um, what can I do for you?” 

“Wondering if I could get a slice of that pie I had the other day.” He beams.

I precede and box the slice up. “Anything else?” I ask.

“Ah, yeah, and a pink vanilla cupcake please.” He says quieter, looking down slightly, almost acting embarrassed.

I nod then grab the cupcake, noticing today they have love hearts sprinkled all over them.

“It’s for someone else.” Dean defends, probably his ego, not wanting to be seen buying saying classed as girlier. 

“Hey, I’m not gonna judge.” I smirk causing Dean to set back at me and chuckle. 

I’d say a girlfriend. Or maybe a girl he’s seeing or even wants to impress? 

What does it matter to me? I don’t need to care. 

I pass over the other boxed delight as Anna exits out of the kitchen. 

Dean watches her and she follows towards me. The kitchen door is several paces right behind me but wind always breezes through when opening it, I’m at the till and I can feel the recall.

I hand Dean over the card machine. 

“Sorry, Cas, the oven timer has gone again.” Anna informs me as she comes and stands next to me. 

Dean taps his card to the reader. 

“That’s fine, I’ll sort it out in a moment.” I say as I take back the card machine. 

“You’re the best!” Then Anna whispers, although not very well, “have you made your mind up about you know what?” 

I hand Dean his receipt. He watches back and forth between us, obviously now a little interested. 

“No, of course I haven’t— it’s barely been two minutes since you figured it out.” I turn and look down at her, leaning over her a fraction, trying to act at least a little intimidating, so she’ll bow down and leave. 

  
I had basically just admitted she was correct.   
  


She glares at me, smirking, and a look of ‘ha, I was right’ flashes across her pale face, red hair drawn back in a messy bun, she’s now close enough that I can see very faint freckles darted around her cheeks and nose. 

“Ooh, now I’m intrigued, Cas, who have you murdered?” Dean piped up, grin playfully slapped onto his face.

I place my left hand on the counter, weight bearing down, sighing with a chuckle following shortly after, shaking my head, typical eye roll following afterwards.

Anna looks at him, head tilted slightly, “hey I recognise you.” She thinks, “you were here the other day, weren’t you.” 

“That I was. I’m Dean Winchester” Dean grins, looking pleased with himself as he reaches out to shake Anna’s hand. “I like the pie.” 

I barely know this guy, yet I can notice every emotion changing through his eyes, every time he chuckles a laugh or half-smirk, every time he has frowned, the lines around his eyes crease or even every time a look of confusion flashes in them it’s like you can see through, they’re ticking away trying to figure something out, no matter what emotion I’d see through his eyes a bubble flows through me towards the surface, like the adrenaline falling softly, a feeling of contentment, a nice feeling sinking in.

“Anna Milton.” She accepts and shakes. “Cas does do a good pie.” I see Anna smile out of the corner of my eye as she reaches up to squeeze my shoulder out of recognition, I continue to look at Dean who now has turned towards me, nodding a couple of times slowly. 

“That he does.” He says, smiling kindly at me, almost feeling like slow motion, the feeling of both their eyes attached onto me yet I still look into the emerald ones that set in-front of myself. 

Anna lets go of my shoulder, I evert my gaze down to her. 

“American too, huh?” Her smirk growing wider, “aww, Cas, you now have a lil’ boyfriend.” She winks at me as I roll my eyes.

“Ah yes, because I’m dating every single American person there is now, yeah?” I call out as she exits back into the kitchen, chuckling. 

Dean short laughs as I turn back towards him, cheeks feeling a tiny bit warm.

He picks up his boxes and turns around, looking back, smiling warmly at me, “well I’ll see you soon, Castiel.” 

The corners of my lips curling slightly upwards as I send off a small wave and he exits the building. 


	7. Seven

Balthazar had texted me numerous times since about 5pm this evening; to which I only responded to a couple of them and safe to say I was a little blunt with my messages. 

It’s now 11:30pm. 

I sit on my bed, procrastinating. I had left my house keys in the bakery office meaning I had to climb up the gutter to my window. Fortunately it’s sturdy and I had done it one to many times growing up, strict father meant sneaking out more. 

Dad had fallen asleep early and locked both the back and front door and as I had walked to work it meant I would have had to walk all the way back. I had stayed there late as it was. 

But as it was Saturday night that would have meant I’d pass several drunk people heading into town or using the tube and heading elsewhere throughout London, I just couldn’t be bothered to avoid that. 

Therefore my plan, being once I had got up, deciding to head downstairs, I would grab my car keys, drive back to the bakery, quickly run in and grab my keys and head home for bed. 

I wouldn’t need to panic anymore about losing my keys and dad would never have to know. 

He would have always found out. 

Truth be told they’re meant to stay on the hook, next to his own in the dining room. To keep me in and in check I assume, he doesn’t want me roaming the streets at night or running off. 

So I quietly sneak out, trying to pull out slowly enough minus my headlights to not cause to much attention, making sure I switch the beams back on once on the road. 

The drive barely takes a couple of minutes due to my building being round the corner. I squeeze up in the small car park out back and jump out, locking my car in a instant. 

_ Three times click with left hand, once more for security with right hand. Okay. _

The night is cold and my breath freezes around me as I exhale. Swirling patterns dazing around.

I pull my jacket over my hoodie more in hope it may comfort me in warmth. I rub my hands together also with the effort of trying to warm them up. 

I get to the door, shakily shove my numb, cold fingers, due to it being in the minus degree winger temperature, in my joggers pocket fishing out for the keys. 

Quickly, I lock the door behind me, checking it—  _ three times click with left hand, once more for security with right hand. Okay. _

It’s dark yet I don’t feel scared nor the need to turn on the light. 

Running through the small building, out the back, up the stairs, through the narrow hall and into the office. There I find my keys sitting on the desk. In an instance I grab them and head downstairs once more.

It’s cold in here too, yet nowhere near as bitter as outside. 

I head over to the front door and unlock it just as my phone pings a text message. 

_ Balthazar. _

I step away from the door and head over to one of the seats; nearest the exit.

I stare at my phone clasped between my hands, elbows leaning on the table in front of me, rocking me up. I cross a leg at my ankles, intertwining them together, like loves holding hands and squeezing tight— never letting go.

I unlock my phone to witness the message just sent to me. 

I stop. I sigh. 

A feeling of cringing almost dread sinks down to the bottom of my stomach as I clamp my eyes shut, shaking my head a little. 

Now, there’s a reason why I never got into any relationships at school or where ever due to cringing at every slight cheesy pickup line, emotion, showing of feelings and compliments. I just don’t know how to act nor feel around them. 

A compliment receiver, I am definitely not, almost turning and walking the moment someone would give me one, I just could never believe they were telling the truth. It just didn’t seem right. 

Balthazar had sent me a text earlier this evening saying that when he went to work on Christmas Day all of his co-workers could tell how happy and giddy he was, and I was the reason. 

He had then said that they all noticed today too when he worked his afternoon shift. Once again, I was the reason. 

It was a sweet comment, and I feel flattered yet strange even I could have that effect on someone, but the very feeling and comment made me shutter with clinginess and cringe shiver throughout my body. 

The most recent message— the one before just now, was him asking when I wanted to go out again, if I did. 

He would then suggest that I stay over. 

He keeps suggesting that. 

I know what he wants but that is going way over the speed limit! 

However, I just reply back with, ‘I’ll see what’s happening with work.’ 

Not quite that blunt, but thats the basic overall message. 

Of course, it’s just a stall, I know what’s happening with the bakery for the next 7months. Anna and I plan ahead: what we’re baking, who is doing what shift, when we’ll get a day off, when we’ll order supplies, when it closes— if it does close, meetings and payments and rent and so on. 

Nevertheless, the message just received moments ago read, ‘ _hey Cassie, I hope you’ve had a decent day. I’m out at the pub with work friends hence the late message so sorry if you’re asleep. But when you read this I’d love to arrange another date maybe this upcoming week, dinner and a movie maybe? You can stay round mine afterwards and I’ll cook you breakfast in the morning. I just want you to know you’re amazing and I’ve falling head over heels for you and I hope you can feel the same way, goodnight!_ ’ 

I assume if I ditto to his feelings butterflies would be fluttering around in my stomach, adrenaline would be flowing through my veins causing a permanent grin plastered across my face, the feeling of warmth and comfort and the feeling of being wanted and needed would caressed my mind. 

But I obviously don’t feel the same way.

This isn’t a romance movie. 

I can’t share his emotions, I don’t understand. 

Flattery was never my forte.

I always believed I’d know when I’d know. When I found  the one  for say. This just quite clearly isn’t my time.

Anna was right, I’d latched onto the first man that threw himself at me in fear I was running out of time. 

I have to set him down, he’s my friend after all and I will end up hurting him. 

He means to much to me.

But obviously not in a romantic sense.

I just cherish his friendship. 

It’s not worth stressing about and worrying, scared that I’ll hurt him whilst we’re to deep in. I mean because if I’m going to sin, might as well do it with someone I truly truly like, right? 

I exit out of the view of the message, I don’t want to deal with this now, too tired. 

I gently and quietly place my phone of the table in front of me, wincing a little when it lets out a noise. 

Sensory overload battling inside my head, need to sleep.

I sigh and envision myself rolling my eyes, too mentally drained to do it in reality. Pathetic really that I can’t bring myself to text someone back, to tell him how I truly feel. That I don’t want anything.

That I’m not even going to try. 

To give it a shot.

But I’m not a quitter in such. I just know when to lay down my weapon, to recede. I know this won’t end well and it will just be a torment suffering, no fair. 

Suddenly a cold knock on the glass door awakens me from my thoughts, causing me to jump a fraction back.

To tired to even feel scared or wonder who’d be knocking on my bakery door at this hour of the night.

My head snaps up to see a silhouette of a tall man against the window. 

My eyes adjust quickly as the figure cocks his head and sends out a small wave, slowly pushing the door open to enter. 

My heart picks up a quicker beat rythme as the moonlight settles down on the mans face. Anxiously I set my eyes upon him. 

It’s Dean. 

Somewhat doesn’t surprise me truth be told, he seems to be popping up a lot recently. 

“Hey.” I mutter out.

He furrows his brows at me, head still tilted slightly, eyes becoming bigger, almost puppy-like due to the angle. The murky green sitting as a reflection from the chilled night’s light from outside. 

“No offence, buddy, but it looks as if you’re about to cry, is everything okay?” He asks as he pulls the chair out from underneath the table, placing himself opposite me, the legs screeching against the floor, echoing around the room, sending shivers between my shoulder blades.

I shift forward on my seat more, almost leaving closer towards him, he seems to follow. I cross my arms of the table and rest my chin in the nook of them intertwining paths. 

“Just people problems.” I admit, half attempting to shrug. 

“Relationship problems?” Dean cocks his head slightly. 

I stare into his piercing eyes, his gripping into my own, he hesitantly flickers down lower.

“Something like that.” I sit up, Dean following my slow movement, he crosses his arms on the table, mimicking my own.

He shifts forward and pulls his chair closer to the edge. 

“What, that red haired chick? What was her name... Anna?”

“Yeah, Anna but no it’s not her!” I let out a small chuckle.

“So she isn’t your girlfriend?”

“Nah, she’s my bestfriend. Not into girls like that.” I blurt out, not that it’s any of his business really.

He blinks at me, the silence even for a split second is deafening. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.” I look down.

I hear him shuffle in his chair someone managing to pull it even closer to the side. He lifts and props up an elbow on the table, carefully placing his head sideways so his cheek is resting on his own hand. He looks through fluttering eyelashes, eyes big and glossy. 

“Oh, so was that dude you were out with the other night your boyfriend?” He seems unfazed and nosey.

“Balth? No, that’s complicated.” 

“How so? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

I shrug again, “I wanted to take things slow and well he didn’t... things led to where I didn’t want them too but I was a bit of a dick to him.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I told him I wanted to go out more then also basically never accepted any more offers.And I also thought about telling him there was someone else when there technically isn’t, just wanting to kinda escape from him really.”

“But you said you wanted to take things slow didn’t you? If he was rushing you he was rushing you, not your fault if you’re not ready for anything. Sounds a little creepy, up-close and personal if you ask me.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. He did kinda touch me or try to on our first date and suppose that scared me a little, plus he just broke up with his boyfriend like 3 weeks ago.”

“Woah, hang on, like touched-touched?”

“Yes..?”

“Did you say it was okay to?”

“Technically no.”

“So basically he tried to rape you.”

“Woah I wouldn’t go that far!” 

“You never gave him consent. That’s a big no. And it’s almost borderline.”

“He didn’t do anything, he just quite clearly wanted to go further, I pushed him off and he stopped and drove me home.”

“I’m sorry he still should have asked.” Dean’s sat up straight now, a more stern look wipes across his face but a flash of concern hovers in his eyes. 

I let out a small mumble and look away, picking at my watch awkwardly, thinking of a reply.

“Dean?” After a few seconds I pipe up.

“Mhm?”

I look up, blue to green once more. “Why are you here? I’ve never seen you around before and yet recently I’ve seemed to see you pop up what seems like everywhere. I don’t want to sound rude nor am l complaining.. I’m just curious.”

“Not complaining, huh?” Dean smirks at me and I swear I see him wink towards my direction, yet it’s to dark to tell. “Just right place, right time, I suppose.” 


	8. Eight

_You didn't lock the door. You let him in. You're letting him in._

My body begins to shift as I feel an uncomfortable intrusive begin to shuffle its way into my mind, I feel myself beginning to twitch. But that's the thing, your brain is so powerful to control, manipulate and scatter these thoughts around your mind, creating false ones and erasing true in a form of trying to protect you. I always check I've locked doors, windows, anything really in a metaphorical way of keeping something closed in when in reality I never truly check, like a rug pulled over to hide something from the outside world.

In a way its what I've done with any form of relationship too, I get scared, do these compulsion for a sign of release that I can't or won't get hurt, nor will anyone else. Yet it just prolongs the anxiety.

I usually remember actually checking something over and over until it feels right but maybe my brain creates the extra, fake memories to shield me. Or maybe that's the real reason I constantly check as I know I'm not doing it correctly.

Although thinking a little deeper into it, is my life foreshadowing that Dean will be the one to follow, open up the locked doors I'm hiding behind to feel protected, will he be the one to break my vicious cycle?

I silently try to shake any thought of me about to embarrass myself away, sometimes it does work, I begin to tap my fingers one by one of the table, thumb to little finger in a form of pattern due to a sort of trigger.

I focus back; I must be tired. Dean furrows his brows at me.

"I'm sorry, you didn't need to hear all of that, it's been a long day, I didn't mean to overshare. I do apologise." I half smile quickly shifting away as I shuffle my weight in order to get up out of the chair, Dean's face drops a little, almost disappointed.

He spins himself round the chair, following me as I stand up, keys fiddling in my hand. He stays planted, like he doesn't take the hint, just stares up at me, a small childish, sleepy grin playing on his face. A feeling drops in my stomach and I feel my eyes soften from seeing the smirk in front of me. I lean on the table next to where Dean sits, my legs cross at the ankles, I put my hands and keys into my pockets. He doesn't say anything yet shuffles his weight to the edge of his seat, closer to me. Something draws me in, wanting to shift closer towards him too. His devilish grin almost non-existent now, just a almost smouldering, curious look masks it instead. I cross my arms around me trying to feel anything other than the shift of tension now in the room and adrenaline coursing through my body. Silence that feels has been a lifetime has only existed for moments as we continue to stare at each other.

They say if you could hold eye contact with someone without words for more than 6 seconds then you either want one another romantically/sexually or to murder each other... and I'm really hoping he isn't here to murder me.

I nervously shift again as I notice he discreetly licks his bottom lip slowly, biting it a little as I feel a bit of heat creeping up to my cheeks.

I'm just about to break eye contact up until he speaks up, almost like he wasn't ready to bring himself out of my eyes like he can tell I'm about to break.

He props his elbow up on the back of the chair, comfortably slouching into it, he chest opens up a little and the way the moon sits finally splashes some light onto him.

He has a suit on, dark pants, a white pressed shit, wrinkled around the collar where a tie had obviously sat yet the top three buttons now undone revealing his collar bone, a midnight coloured trench coat hanging down loosely from his shoulders, polished brogues and his hair neatly gelled back into a professional, parted quiff, if he wasn't wearing as much product in it dirty blond strands would float around his face I would imagine.

I blink as he talks, a little taken back as I almost forget of how deep his voice is coming from someone so pretty.

"Go out with me?" a softness of hope plays in his voice yet his facial expression turns so alluring.

"I did not see you as gay." Is all I can make out to say.

"Bisexual if we're being completely honest. You basically blurted out your entire life so I may as well share a secret or two." He winks and I can't help but smile back, a short chuckle escaping my lips. "But a secrets a secret, so no sharing."

"You know if we went out people would know, right."

Dean smiles fondly at me as realisation catches up to him. "Okay, touché." 

I set myself up from leaning against the table and place myself back opposite Dean, he follows my every move, eyes still fixated upon one another.

"Does that change your question" I almost hesitantly ask, shudder in my voice.

"No." He lets out, although it comes out more like an escaped whisper, finally being released into the world after so long. "Does that change your answer?"

"No."

"Is that a yes? Or a no?" Dean asks, slowly, trying to step carefully.

I scoff at him, "when Dean Winchester asks you out, you say 'yes'!"

He grins at me, like he just succeeded at something, "I don't remember telling you my last name."

"I must have seen it on your card or something." I shrug not thinking much of it, yet recalling back to the other night at the restaurant, "I don't remember telling you 'Cas' was short for 'Castiel'."

"I must have heard Anna or that boy of yours say it." I roll my eyes at Dean teasing me, "but give me your phone so I can put my number into it."

I oblige and hand my unlocked phone over to him. He types for a moment then hands it back. "Balth says goodnight by the way." He smirks as I place the phone in my back pocket securely.

"Fuck sake." I loosely curse under my breath. "I suppose I should really reply back."

"Ah, whats the point, it's past midnight anyway, he'll probably be asleep anyway." Dean reassures and I shrug lightly, the mention of midnight sends shudders throughout my body, _new day, new intrusive thoughts, new compulsions_. "Speaking of which-- I should really head home now. Got to leave some things for the actual date." Dean winks once again at me playfully as he stands up and presses his coat down.

I get up too following him to the front door, looking around and checking the dark, spacious room around me once more.

"How far have you got to go, I could give you a lift if you'd like?" I offer Dean as I lock the door behind me.

Not caring that he's there nor allowing him to speak I begin the compulsion, _three with my left and once more with my right. Repeat it three times now._

_Or it'll get broken into and you'll have a bad date with Dean._

That's new.

Yet I still give in, my back turned to him.

He waits for me and doesn't leave a snarky comment afterwards, he just ignores it, then politely smiles when I face him once more.

"Thank you, but its only a couple of blocks away, I don't mind walking, its probably out of your way anyway." Dean brushes off as he places his hands in his coat pocket whilst throwing his weight to the back of his heels as if he's about to set off.

"Dean, don't be stupid, it's late and honestly we're not exactly in the nicest part of the county. Besides, you're far too pretty to be walking home alone at night, that's just asking for trouble!"

"Oh and you being here with me is someone gonna magically save me?" Dean smirks, stepping closer to me. "I'm a big boy, Cassie, I can fend for myself y'know. I'm probably older than you anyway." Dean's smirk causes mine to plaster on my face as his grows wider, I drop a hip and shift.

"I'm nearly 20." I shrug, biting my bottom lip genuinely curious to see if he's the same age as me or older now, offering for him to tell me next.

"Ha, I'm 22!" I roll my eyes and laugh at his grin due to him winning his petty age competition.

"Look my cars round the back, its honestly no trouble."

"Thanks, Cas."

I nod and turn around, Dean following next to me, side by side. I slither the keys out of my pocket, unlocking my car we both jump in securing our seat belts as I start the engine, turning the heating up and the radio playing softly in the background.

"So why aren't you at home at this time of the night anyway?" I curiously ask Dean as I pull out of the car park.

"I had to do some business at Royal Brompton Hospital today as just lost track of time I suppose and my commute of the tube was longer, I didn't time anything that well honestly." Dean replies eyes looking at the empty road ahead of us.

I quickly glimpse at him from aside before relaying back on the road in front of me following Dean directions to his apartment.

"How comes you were at your bakery so late? Don't tell me that's a daily thing?" Dean turns to full on face me, pulling the seatbelt with him. I carry on looking forward.

"No, I locked my house keys in the office so just went that late to retrieve them. My dad would kill me if he knew I'd misplaced them."

"Makes sense. Your mom wouldn't stick up for you, no?"

"No, she's not here."

"Oh, is she back in the States?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"She died when I was a kid, she's buried back in my home town back in Cali."

I can't see Deans face at the start but when I glance at him he's staring, mouth agape.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, I should have realised!"

I smile sympathetically and without thinking, still glancing at him, I place my hand on his knee, "hey it's okay, that's life unfortunately."

Once I feel him soften to my touch I realise what I'm doing and quickly retrieve my hand from his leg apologetically, he laughs softly at me and the same tension from earlier fills the car, Dean takes his gaze off of me facing and sitting forward as we finally pull into his street. I pull the car to a halt outside an old-fashioned, complex building, we're on one of the upper side streets in one of the nicest parts of town, fancy. Iron gates guard each of the houses standing three, four stories high, most with basements too. Old fashion Victorian windows are the eyes of the buildings all glued together, hip by hip in a long line down the street leading on for what looks like miles, each brick for a new block painted differently as the further you look down the less you see loosing through the distant of the dark, eerie night as the street lights slowly switch off to go to sleep themselves.

Dean unbuckles himself then steps out, before shutting the door he leans down and peeps in, "I would invite you in, but again, gotta save something for our date." He winks at me a final time before thanking me for the lift, saying goodnight and that he'll text me.

I pull away and drive home, switching on my Taylor Swift album now that Dean is gone, singing as loud as possible.

I set the car as slowly, discretely and quietly as possible into my driveway letting myself in then sending myself off to bed. It's almost 1am but as I'm awake I start my morning routine compulsions as it's past midnight-- a new day.

_50 squats, 50 situps, 50 press-ups, 50 second plank and 50 crunches everyday otherwise you won't stay fit. Then your daily challenge of Solitaire, Spiders and the checking of your social media memories too, and don't forget your prayers, every last one of them then once you've done that you can finally sleep._

1:27am I finally set into bed switching off my lamp, thinking of a message I can send to Balthazar to let him down as easily as possible. Thinking of this evening and everything that had happened I drift off to sleep, with the last thing on my mind being Dean.


End file.
